


The Silk Terrace Cafe

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [21]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Digital Art, M/M, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Richard works in a sandwich shop and Paul is the customer he falls in love with</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silk Terrace Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following gorgeously cute prompt left upon tumblr’s otpprompts: [Person B is an employee at a sandwich shop. One day, a new customer comes in, it being Person A. While B serves A, they can’t help but stare at A the entire time. After Person A leaves, some of the people Person B works with teases them about them staring at A, and jokes that they have a crush on A. Person B dismisses it as a joke, but as Person A starts coming to the sandwich shop more and more, B realizes that they have a crush on A. The next day, after Person A leaves the sandwich shop after getting their order, they check inside the bag and find a note from Person B with a phone number on it that says: “I’m not gunna lie… you’re… you’re actually kinda cute. I have Sunday off, so… would you mind having lunch with me at the sandwich shop? I’ll pay. Call me if you do decide!” When Person B returns home, they get a phone call from an unknown number and answer it. They then hear Person A’s voice saying: “I’d be delighted to.”](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/110473769499/person-b-is-an-employee-at-a-sandwich-shop-one)

[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/paulchen2/media/BeFunky_null_6.jpg_zpsevw4zevo.jpg.html)

::::

Richard wandered over to the window of the Silk Terrace Cafe, as he wiped his hands free of butter smears and flecks of ham and cheese alike. Whilst the cloth did not entirely remove the stickiness from his skin, it, at least, removed the worst of the mess; the remainder would have to be washed away in the sink once he returned behind the cafe’s counter. 

He looked out of the window, and relished the quiet, customer-free lull in the cafe for a while. He yawned, and the resultant blast of warm air fogged against the glass; Richard impatiently wiped it away so that he could see the street outside again. It was a grey day in Berlin and the rain that had started early that morning continued unabated. Puddles had formed upon the pavements and the roads alike, reflecting the dark clouds that lowered overhead; occasionally, Richard saw passing blurs of colour smudged against the surface of each puddle, when people passed on the street. Their umbrellas were the brightest specks of colour in a dark and dismal day. 

He shivered despite the warmth in the cafe; whilst his shift did not end for another hour or two yet, he already could feel the chill of the day against his skin, accompanied by the imagined slap of rain against his face whilst he made his way down Kudamm. He huffed to himself, amused by his own flight of fancy, and inadvertently blasted the window again; he turned away without bothering to wipe the moisture away from the glass. Richard disliked bad weather; every year, he found it a struggle to wait for February showers to turn into March sunshine, intermittent and unreliable though that might prove to be.

Richard headed back behind the counter again, before he washed his hands properly at the sink that was in the back room; through the open doorway, he could see another batch of customers making their way inside to escape the cold and the nasty weather. He sighed, as he knew that he could not linger by the sink for much longer; after all, it was his job to feed the hungry public and ordinarily he enjoyed working in the cafe. That day, however, he had to admit to feeling a little on the discontented side; his thoughts often wandered off into random directions, and inevitably went nowhere at all. Richard wondered if perhaps he merely needed a change of direction or pace, or perhaps, merely a holiday.

Richard wandered back behind the counter again, but found that there was no immediate work for him to do; the gaggle of customers were already being served by a couple of his co-workers, who at least looked happier than he felt right then. 

“What’s up, Reesh? You seem kind of distracted, today,” Oli, one of his co-workers, said, on his way past.

Despite the orders he had to fill, Oli apparently didn’t have anything better to do than to observe Richard; Richard himself wasn’t quite so sure how he felt about that, right then, given his dour mood. 

“I’m okay,” Richard replied, with a shrug. “I guess it's the weather getting to me, y‘know? I just don’t feel quite like myself, today.” 

“Hmm,” Oli replied, noncommittally. “I suppose the rain could get anyone down, I suppose.”

“I suppose. I‘ll get over it, given enough time,” Richard replied, with a brave grin that was almost like his usual one.

Oli had to satisfy himself with that; nearby, the bell at the door jangled to announce the arrival of another customer. Richard jerked to attention at the noise, and felt once again like Pavlov's dog, reacting to the ringing of a bell; however, unlike said dog, Richard’s main requirement was to serve food, rather than to wait to be served. Richard had time to note that only one customer shivered his way inside, before he shuffled forward, ready to greet the customer with a happy smile that mostly masked his morose mood. Just because he felt a little blue that day didn’t mean to say that he had to take it out on the customers; the weather, after all, was not their fault. 

Richard’s breath caught a little in his throat when the man in question finally made his way to the counter in front of Richard; the man was cute, in that friendly, open-faced, yet slightly lost way that Richard always found attractive. The other man was smaller than Richard, and slighter through the shoulders; his hands when they flexed against the counter-top looked strong, and capable, as though he worked with them a lot. Richard suddenly couldn’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like against his body, warm and pliable as they caressed across his skin. 

Richard coughed in sudden embarrassment and scrubbed his hand over his eyes, as he tried to drive distracting images of candle-lit bedrooms and languid love-making from his mind. He tried his best smile again, and saw a flicker of a responding little grin cross the other man’s face, a smile that reached his eyes and turned the almost mournful cast of them warm for a fleeting moment; despite the briefness of the expression, Richard could tell that the man was the owner of a really nice smile. Then the grin was gone and the slightly sad look returned, as though the other man had something on his mind. 

“How may I help you, today?” Richard asked, finally remembering the fact that he did actually work in a cafe and that the man on the other side of the counter was a potential customer. 

“Uh, I don’t know,” the man replied, as his gaze roved over the menu board that hung upon the wall just over Richard’s head.

It seemed to lend the customer an almost spaced out look, eyes drifting over the words neatly written by Richard’s own hand; the customer scrubbed long fingers against his chin whilst he read, lips pursed in a thoughtful little moue that was almost kissable. Richard found himself staring at the man‘s mouth, whilst he wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, whether they would be as soft as they looked. He forcibly ripped his eyes away from the customer’s mouth when he realized that the other man had, once again, dropped his gaze and was staring back at him. The man looked amused, if anything, with a certain heat in his gaze that indicated sudden, and genuine, interest. 

“What do you suggest?” the other man asked, breaking the spell that hung between them.

Richard’s thoughts immediately turned to sex, and time spent naked upon silk sheets. He cleared his throat again, and mentally cursed himself for getting carried away by his own lustful thoughts. Ordinarily, he wasn’t quite as easily distracted by a cute face and nice hands, but then again, most customers that were blown through the door of the cafe didn’t come pre-wrapped in such a sexy body either. 

“Um, well, the ham and cheese is quite good,” Richard suggested, before he felt a little stupid for making such a mundane suggestion. “And also quite ordinary. Forget that suggestion. You look as though you might be the type to enjoy the New York Special.” 

Again, an amused look passed over the other man’s face, lending his eyes a certain warmth; fine crinkles touched the corners of his eyes and radiated outwards briefly, soon disappearing although the amused warmth didn’t. 

“I do, do I? And what might be in the New York Special, then?” the man asked, and his amusement lent a further deepness to his already deep voice. 

Richard had to stop himself from staring again, whilst he imagined that voice whispering sweet nothings into his ear, or moaning his name upon release. 

“Um, pastrami, smoked ham, gherkins, sauerkraut, French mustard, Leerdamer cheese and a splosh of mayonnaise,” Richard said, automatically.

“Only a splosh?” the man asked, and the amusement had returned full force again.

“Nothing more than a splosh, indeed,” Richard replied, with a shaky attempt at a grin. “Don’t want to over-indulge, do we?”

“Not with mayonnaise, no. The same can‘t be said for other things, however,” the man replied, but he didn‘t look ready to expand on what the other things might be. 

Richard swallowed, with an effort and began to feel the first trickles of nervous sweat curling beneath his collar. Suddenly, the cafe felt too hot, his clothes too tight, and the playful exchange of words too loaded with unfulfilled potential for Richard. He struggled to concentrate on what the customer was saying when he realized that the other man was still talking.

“Okay, you’ve sold it to me,” he was saying, undaunted by Richard’s distraction. “I’ll have one of your New York Specials, please.”

“Coming right up,” Richard said, far too brightly for the situation, before he set to work.

The common practice in the cafe was to prepare the sandwiches in front of the customers, pulling each ingredient out of the fridge pushed against the far wall behind the counter. That way, it ensured that the customer knew that they were getting the freshest ingredients possible; such practice was why the Silk Terrace Cafe had been going for so long and had earned the good reputation that it had. 

He turned around, just in time to see the customer’s gaze lifting from the vicinity of Richard’s ass, an unabashed smile soon crossing the other man’s face. Richard felt an internal, and all too sudden, heat at that; it looked to him as though the other man had been checking him out whilst his back was turned. He hoped that the blush he could feel building up on the inside wouldn’t show on his face in any way, as he feared that it would emasculate him in some way. 

“Your sandwich, sir,” Richard said, as though he hadn’t seen a thing.

He thought that to remark upon the man’s obvious ogling would embarrass himself as much as the customer, but the man on the other side of the counter did not look particularly abashed. Instead, he merely smiled, and brief contact was made as he took the freshly made and wrapped sandwich from Richard’s hand. Richard felt a warm and pleasurable shudder work its way through his body, aided by the other man holding out a few Euro’s to pay for his food.

“Your payment,” the man said, as Richard merely stared at the coins in blank denial. “Richard.” 

Richard blinked a little stupidly at the man, wondering silently how he even knew his name, and laughed when the customer pointed to the name tag pinned to the pocket of Richard’s shirt. For one embarrassing moment, Richard had forgotten quite where he was, and he had to admit that the over-sight was a little stupid. 

“Okay, thanks,” Richard said, before he turned to the register. “I’ll just get your change.”

“Nah, keep it,” the man said, with a slight wink tipped in Richard‘s direction. “You earned the tip.” 

“Ah,” Richard said, and his voice stuttered and backed up in his throat, preventing him from saying something more intelligent than that.

Instead he watched silently as the sexiest man he’d seen in a long while walked out of the cafe, one hand lifted by way of farewell; briefly, their eyes met again as the customer looked back and over his shoulder to smile at Richard. Richard barely had time to smile back before his customer piled out into the rain again, door snicking softly shut behind him with a clatter of bells. 

“Looks like someone’s got it bad,” Oli said, quietly into Richard’s ear. 

“What?” Richard asked, still a little distracted. 

“You. You’ve got it bad, You were staring,” Oli repeated patiently, as his face softened into a little grin at Richard. 

“I was not staring, Oli,” Richard objected immediately with a snort of disgust.

“You totally were,” Christoph agreed, from somewhere behind Oli. “I saw you. Your tongue was practically hitting the floor, it was hanging so far out of your mouth. I don‘t think you could have made it any more obvious that you had a crush on him.”

“Shut up. I was not staring and I do not have a crush. I hate you both,” Richard said, as he turned away.

He tried to ignore the sounds of loud, crude kissing sounds coming from Christoph’s direction and the soft sounds of Oli’s resultant laughter directly afterwards. 

“You wait until he comes in again, then we’ll see who doesn’t have a crush on him,” Christoph said, as he waggled both eyebrows at Richard. 

“I doubt he‘ll come back,” Richard replied, mournfully. 

“I bet he will,” Christoph immediately said, with a sharp little grin at the still laughing Oli. 

“Well, it would be nice,” Richard said, without thinking.

“There you go; you do have a crush on him. You all but admitted it,” Christoph said. 

Richard opened his mouth, before he closed it on the tail-end of a defeated sigh. He knew that he’d just implicated himself with his own inadvertent admission and Oli and Christoph’s laughter was making him feel worse, and definitely more embarrassed. He sighed again and knew when he was defeated.

“Alright, I wish he would come back, but in no way did I have a crush on him,” he said, severely. “Crushes are for teenagers and the last time I looked, I’m not a teenager, anymore.” 

“Okay, granted, but surely you can’t deny that you were attracted to him,” Christoph said.

Richard could tell that Christoph was in one of his moods again; the other man was bound to keep hounding him until Richard started giving him the answers that he seemed so desperate to hear. 

“Okay, attracted is marginally better,” Richard conceded finally after a brief pause. “I’ll give you that one. He does have a nice smile.” 

“Okay, so now we’re finally getting somewhere,” Oli said, with one of his gentle, unassuming smiles. “Super.”

Richard merely sighed and was glad for the distraction of another customer, if only if it meant that he was spared from constant teasing from his co-workers for a while. The earlier dissatisfaction he’d felt had long since been forgotten, carried away in the hands of a particularly attractive customer; Richard wondered, with some underlying hope, if the man would ever return again. 

:::

Paul left the sandwich shop, a smile still resting upon his lips despite the rain that continued to hammer down from grey Berlin skies. He barely noticed the discomfort from the damp day, however; his mind was too distracted, too focused upon the man he’d left behind in the Silk Terrace Cafe. Whilst he’d been vaguely aware that there were other employees behind the counter, he could remember only one face, one smile, eyes that were that indeterminate shade forever caught between blue and green and a ready grin that seemed as though it was meant solely for him. 

He remembered the way that the man, Richard, had seemed easily embarrassed by Paul ’s unguarded interest in him, as though he was unused to anyone showing interest in him at all. Paul wondered if the other man had a boyfriend, or, God forbid, whether he was even gay at all. That thought almost brought him up short, feet suddenly spurred into a flurry of extra movement when a fellow pedestrian behind him complained after almost barreling into his back. He apologized, but was too distracted to sound particularly sincere; he ducked beneath the cover of a nearby awning to disconsolately watch the world go by. 

Paul still couldn’t stop thinking of Richard, and thoughts of the other man bizarrely reminded him that he still carried his lunch from the Cafe in a paper sack. already getting damp from the rain. He pulled his sandwich from the depths of it, whilst trying to push Richard from his thoughts, before he tore hungrily at it with his teeth; his eyes closed momentarily at the tastes that flooded across his tongue. He tried not to moan too loudly, as pleasure suddenly coursed through his body; the sandwich was one of the best he’d ever tasted, as though Richard’s hands had somehow imbued an otherwise normal sandwich with love, with passion, with creativity. 

Paul devoured the rest of his sandwich hungrily, eyes mostly closed with his continuing pleasure; his thoughts, inevitably strayed to Richard again once the sandwich, finally, was gone. He sighed; even if Richard did prove to be completely straight, it didn’t stop Paul from continuing to buy his lunch from the Cafe. The food was undoubtedly better than the lunches he made himself, yet Paul still felt a deeply disquieting yearning; it felt as though he’d left something of himself behind, in the hands of a man with a perfect ass and a flair, seemingly, for cooking. 

::::

The following day, Oli and Christoph subjected Richard to more light teasing; Christoph, in particular, constantly made comments regarding “Richard’s sexy new customer.” Despite treating such teasing with patient smiles and a few jokes of his own, Richard still half expected, half-hoped that the man with the cute face and lovely smile would walk through the door once again; Richard couldn’t help the slow spurt of disappointment from winding its way through his body when his shift wound to a close and he hadn’t seen the other man at all.

A few more days passed and still Richard had yet to see the man who‘d so caught his eye; Christoph and Oli’s jokes at Richard’s expense began to trickle away into non-existence. Even Richard finally decided to put the whole situation down to a chance meeting that was destined never to progress any further than it already had. 

In that he was proved to be wrong. It was another rainy day when the cute man came in to the cafe again; unlike the first time, however, the man actually carried an umbrella. As such, his hair had remained mercifully dry and looked soft and fluffy, even freshly washed. Richard couldn’t stop himself from staring, as he wondered if the man’s hair was as soft as looked. He could almost feel the strands beneath his palms, squishing and parting beneath exploratory fingers, naked bodies snuggled beneath the silken weight of his bed-sheets.

The man seemed to make a bee-line for Richard, despite the fact that Oli was not actually serving anyone at the time, either. Richard was quick to notice the sudden sharp grin that Oli directed towards him, yet did his best to ignore his co-worker's sudden amusement. Instead, he smiled at his customer, uncertain as to whether he should pass comment regarding the fact that he recognized the other man from his prior visit; after all, he did not wish to come across as being too creepy, or perhaps too much like a stalker. Richard’s indecision was laid to rest by his customer’s opening statement. 

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me, but you recommended me a New Jersey Special, the other day?” the other man asked, and there was a sudden quirk of his lips as though he’d intentionally gotten the name of the sandwich wrong. 

“I remember, and I believe it was the New York Special that I gave you,” Richard said, with a smile that he hoped took the harshness out of his words. 

The man grinned again and nodded, a faint spark of pleasure warming his eyes for a moment when Richard remembered him. 

“So it was,” the man conceded, and Richard was glad that he hadn‘t taken offence by the correction. “And it was very delicious, I might add.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Richard said, with a smile that was caught somewhere between pride and pleasure. 

He felt faintly ridiculous, as though the reputation of the shop rested solely upon his shoulders and his ability to assemble a mere sandwich. 

“Would you like the same again?” Richard queried, feeling faintly ridiculous for asking, despite the fact that it was part of his job.

“I don’t know. Is there something else you might recommend?” the man asked, as his gaze slid thoughtfully over the menu again. 

“How about a Ploughman’s?” Richard offered, wondering whether that was a really wise choice or not. 

The amount of onion that went into the Ploughman’s was enough to keep even the most loving of acquaintances at a safe distance. Richard had been told, by gagging co-workers, that they’d needed to fumigate the cafe every time that he dared to eat one himself; then again, Richard really liked onions and even he had to admit that he always put too many in his own sandwiches. 

“Whatever you suggest,” the man agreed, with a nod. “How’s the coffee?” 

“Hot? Like someone not so far from here, apparently,” Christoph muttered from behind Richard's back. 

Richard stabbed Christioph in the thigh discreetly with the closest implement he had to hand; he was disgusted to find that it was only a spoon and therefore incapable of any true damage to his co-worker. 

“Freshly brewed, and all Colombian,” Richard assured the customer, even as Christoph swore loudly and mock-limped away. “Freshly ground beans, too.” 

“Sounds nice. I’ll have some to go,” the man said, with a smile of appreciation. 

“Coming right up, sir,” Richard said, pausing slightly when the man roughly snorted at him. 

He tilted his head questioningly towards his customer, when the other man started to grin. 

“It seems strange to be referred to as sir,” the man explained. “It makes me feel old. If it makes a difference, my name is Paul.” 

Richard thought that it made a very big difference indeed; at least he had a name to put to the face now. 

“Okay, Paul it is,” he said, with a grin at the newly named Paul. “Your order will be right with you, Paul.” 

“Super,” Paul replied, with a hint of a smile crossing his face at that. 

Richard grinned back before diligently setting to work, ignoring the grins that were inevitably thrown his way by both Oli and Christoph. He was all too aware of Paul’s scrutiny, of the way that the other man’s gaze rested heavily upon his back, his hands, his ass; Richard even dared to cast a glance over his shoulder whilst he assembled Paul’s sandwich, and smiled politely when he caught Paul clearly staring at his ass again. 

He couldn‘t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether Paul was actually single. No one that good-looking could possibly be without a partner; Richard never seemed to have that much luck. He sighed and turned around, having finished piling up the cheese, the pickles, the onions and chutney within its shroud of toasted bread and poured the freshly brewed coffee into a cardboard cup bearing the Cafe‘s logo. 

He handed both food and drink to Paul, shivering slightly when Paul’s fingertips seemed to linger against his, purposefully playing with him, it seemed. Richard relished the contact, and even managed to prolong it for a few seconds longer, one finger trailing down the length of Paul‘s finger as the other man drew away. His efforts didn’t go unnoticed, apparently, for Paul’s mouth curled into an impish, appreciative grin, deep crinkles tracing their way from the corners of his eyes at the prolonged contact. Richard even noticed that the other man wrinkled his nose slightly whilst smiling, an expression that further added to his cuteness. He found himself smiling back and the moment seemed to stretch on forever, for longer than it should have done, before finally Paul quietly thanked him and moved away; the moment was lost but still remembered, still felt in the lingering remains of warmth that danced along the length of Richard’s fingers. 

“See you soon,” Paul said, with a nod at Richard, before he directed a more perfunctory nod towards Richard’s watching co-workers.

The second nod seemed more of an afterthought, as though Paul had only just realized that Christoph and Oli were there. Richard felt an odd and unexplainable stab of jealousy at that, as though by mere acknowledgement alone, Paul was giving more of himself to them than he was to Richard. 

“Jesus, so you’re actually coming back?” he asked, surprised when Paul’s words finally registered.

“Of course,” Paul said, as though it was a foregone conclusion. “I work nearby, so its convenient. Plus I like the ambience.”

He winked slightly at Richard before he turned to leave, one hand raised in silent farewell again. Richard watched him walk away, smiling when once again, Paul turned at the doorway to look over his shoulder. There was a hopeful yearning in the other man’s eyes then, that hadn’t been there the last time, as though the other man really hoped that Richard would still be looking in his direction. Once again, their gazes locked, and they shared a smile that seemed strangely private and intimate despite the very public space they both were in. Then the door closed quietly behind Paul and he was gone, yet Richard tracked his progress past the window until he could see him no more.

“Somehow, I don’t think he meant the ambience,” Oli observed from nearby.

“What?” Richard asked, still too distracted by Paul to pay much attention to Oli.

“He said he liked the ambience. I don’t think he meant that,” Oli said, grin widening slightly.

“Why the hell not? It’s a nice place,” Richard said, as he transferred his full attention upon Oli.

“I’m not disputing that, Reesh,” the other man said, patiently. “I meant, rather, that he wants to come back because he likes you.”

“Oh, fuck off, he doesn’t,” Richard said, in disgust, yet he felt a glimmer of hope over Oli’s quiet observation, all the same.

It made him wonder if perhaps he wasn’t imagining things, after all, or hoping for too much. 

“He does,” Oli said, more insistently than was his usual wont. “You’ll see.” 

Richard grunted, still not quite believing it, yet still, his hope refused to fade just yet. 

:::

The following day, Paul made his way into the Silk Terrace Cafe, yet he couldn’t see Richard in his usual place behind the counter. Disappointment cut through him sharply, before he smiled ruefully at himself; he reminded himself that he barely knew Richard and as such, certainly didn’t know his shift patterns. The other man might just be taking a day off; he was allowed that luxury, Paul knew. 

He sighed at himself, before he made his way towards a tall, slim man with a kind face and the beginnings of a rough beard; his name badge read Oli when Paul checked it. 

“Hi,” Paul said, nervously as he checked behind the counter again. “Is Richard here?” 

“No, it’s his day off today, I’m afraid,” Oli replied, a flash of sudden amusement crossing his face at Paul‘s question. “Why? Did you want him for something?”

Paul sighed again, as disappointment settled in his stomach like a leaden weight. 

“No, not really,” he said, with a rueful smile. “I just wondered if he was in, I suppose.”

“Well, I can give him a message if you like,” Oli offered, even as another man coughed out his laughter behind a swiftly raised hand.

Paul thought that the other man, whose name badge read Christoph, had then muttered something like - phone number - into his fist, yet he couldn’t be sure. That made him feel embarrassed all of a sudden, flushed heat trapped between the cotton of his t shirt and his skin. 

“No,” he said, morosely. “Thanks for the offer, though.” 

“You sure? I can give him one if you like,” Oli said. “A message, I mean. Not anything else, though, obviously. I‘m married. To someone else. A woman, no less. And I’m fully aware that I‘m talking crap right now, by the way, before you say anything.” 

Paul laughed at that, before he shook his head, again. 

“No, it’s okay; thanks all the same,” he repeated. “I’ll just have a sandwich and a coffee, I guess.” 

“Any preference?” Oli asked. 

“To what?” Paul asked, in genuine confusion, mind still distracted by thoughts of Richard.

“The sandwich, of course,” Oli replied, grin suddenly appearing beneath the cover of his beard. “Unless you have a preference for anyone else. Anything else, I mean, obviously.” 

Paul frowned at that, even as the other man, Christoph, began to laugh hysterically. He didn’t know what could be so funny, yet Oli was also grinning as though there was some joke that Paul himself was not privy to. He sighed and decided not question the staff's odd behaviour; as long as they kept themselves amused, then it was not really his business. 

“I don’t know. Perhaps you could suggest something to me,” he said, his tone still a little flat and disappointed. 

“The Bavarian’s a good one,” Oli said.

Paul didn’t even bother asking what was in it; instead, he merely nodded, distractedly. 

“Okay,” he said, quietly. 

He waited while Oli prepared his sandwich, fingers tapping out rhythms against the counter-top; he did not bother watching Oli’s movements, as he had with Richard. Whilst Oli was undoubtedly nice-looking, he wasn’t Paul’s type. 

“Richard's back on Friday, if that’s any good to you,“ the man called Christoph supplied, with a grin at Paul.

“Is he, now?” Paul asked, perking up a little at the information. 

He tried to tone down his enthusiasm a little, but he knew that it didn’t wash with either Oli or Christoph. They’d both caught a hold of his obvious interest with gleeful hands, and he knew, just knew, that he would be talked about as soon as he left the store. Suddenly he didn’t really care. 

“Yes, he is,” Christoph said, meaningfully, as he tipped a wink in Paul’s direction. 

Paul frowned at that; again, it seemed as though he was missing something, yet he wasn’t quite sure what. He was saved from further confusion by the arrival of his sandwich and coffee; he paid with a distracted smile, before he left the Cafe. That time, he did not look back, even though he could feel the weight of Oli’s and Christoph’s gazes resting upon his back. 

He settled down on an empty bench, across the street from where the luthier’s workshop where he worked, before he tucked into his sandwich and coffee. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed, and oddly cheated, before he’d even finished eating; whilst the sandwich undoubtedly was delicious, it still lacked that extra something that Richard‘s sandwiches had, as though Oli did not have quite the same passion for food as Richard had. Even the coffee tasted bland in comparison with the one that Richard had made, with far too much sugar in it for Paul’s liking. Despite the discrepancies with his lunch, Paul ate everything, too hungry to turn down even slightly mediocre sandwiches; once finished, he pitched his rubbish into the nearest bin and made his way into work for the afternoon. 

::::

“Oh hey, Reesh. Lover boy came in a couple of days ago,” Christoph announced, when Richard yawned his way into the Cafe on Friday.

“Who?” Richard asked, mind still caught halfway between sleep and full wakefulness. 

Even his seventh cigarette of the morning had not quite managed to kick-start his brain into action; he hoped that his first coffee of the day would finally wake him up. 

“You know who. That cute piece of ass you’ve got your eye on,” Christoph said. 

“Oh, super; Paul,” Richard said, immediately, with a smile.

“See, you knew who I meant all along,” Christoph said, with a grin for Till’s benefit who was clearly eaves-dropping nearby.

“What’s all this about?” Till asked, clearly amused. 

Christoph grinned at their shift supervisor, all too eager to spread the gossip for Till’s benefit. 

“Richard’s got his eye on one of the customers,” Christoph explained. “He’s got it pretty bad, I think.”

“I don‘t. I hate you, just so you know,” Richard said, as he stalked past them both. 

Christoph’s laughter followed Richard into the staff room; the door slammed behind the other man, which made Christoph laugh even harder. He turned back to Till, and shook his head at the other man. 

“Who is this man, anyway? What’s he like?” Till asked, with some genuine interest. “It’s about time Richard showed interest in someone. I mean, how long has it been? A year?”

“Something like that. And Paul, this guy, is pretty cute,” Christoph said, with a shrug. “Not my type, exactly, but he’s definitely Richard‘s. He‘s got a really nice smile.”

Till made an interested noise, even as Richard stalked back to them.

“Would you kindly not discuss my love life in public, please and thank you very much,” Richard said, before he stalked away again.

“Jesus, but he’s on the war-path today, isn’t he?” Till asked, as he raised eyebrows at Richard’s retreating back. “I don’t care what he says; he really must have it bad.” 

Christoph’s only response was to laugh and nod, before Till sighed and suggested that Christoph get back to work, before they were inundated by sulky customers. 

::::

Richard looked up when he heard quiet sniggers from nearby; his gaze met that of Paul’s as the other man winnowed his way through the lunchtime crowds towards him. Paul was already grinning by the time that he reached Richard; as before, he ignored the fact that both Till and Oli were free and Richard already was in the midst of serving a customer. Richard returned Paul‘s grin, just as his customer paid and left with his purchase. 

“Hallo,” Paul said, as he nodded at Richard.

“Hallo, yourself, ” Richard said, with a nod back at the smaller man. “I heard that you came in looking for me the other day.” 

Richard winced internally at that; whilst he wanted to engage Paul in conversation, he hadn’t meant to say anything about the other man’s prior visit. He wondered, with more than a hint of worry, if his off-beat comment could have been perceived as being something other than merely idle, thoughtless chatter. Paul’s appearance had oddly caught him off guard and caused him to blurt out the first thing on his mind.

“Yeah, I just swung by to get my lunch,” Paul said, and there was an embarrassed tilt to his head at that, and he wasn’t quite able to meet Richard’s gaze all of a sudden. “Anything to get out of work for a while.” 

“Ah, I see,” Richard said. “And where is work, exactly, if I might ask?”

“You might and I work at Lorenz‘s Luthiers,” Paul said, before he frowned slightly. “I don’t know if you know it.”

“Yeah, I do, actually. I’ve been meaning to pay you guys a visit for quite a while. It must be interesting work,” Richard said, with a smile. 

At least the revelation regarding Paul’s line of work explained the strength that Richard had noticed in the other man’s hands. 

“Yeah, it’s a good job. I like it,” Paul said. “It’s quiet work, though. You don’t meet that many people, unlike working in a Cafe. It must be really interesting working here.” 

“It's okay, I guess,” Richard said, with a shrug. “I like some of the customers.” 

He smiled at Paul, and received a raised eyebrow and grin in return. Richard wasn’t certain but he thought he saw wistful hopefulness in Paul’s eyes, coupled with a sad defeat; it almost looked as though the other man believed that whatever he wanted was just out of reach. It made Richard curious then, as to what it was that Paul most wanted, yet he felt like he would be prying if he outright asked; after all, he barely knew the man and certainly didn’t feel comfortable asking him anything that could be perceived as being too personal. 

Instead, he changed the subject and asked for Paul’s order, deciding to remain on safe ground for now. Paul ordered another Bavarian, and a coffee, followed by a portion of the German Chocolate torte that Richard recommended. Richard was surprised when Paul decided to take his meal in the cafe itself, after first checking his watch. 

“I have the time, and I might as well soak up a bit of the ambience,” Paul said, with a shrug that was too quick and nervous to be truly nonchalant. 

He also couldn’t help but notice the quick slide of Paul's eyes towards Richard when he spoke about the ambience, as though that was the furthest thing from his mind. Richard began to hope that that his co-workers might be onto something after all and there was an ulterior motive behind the other man’s visits. 

“Okay, super. I’ll bring your meal over to you, then,” Richard said, unable to believe his good fortune, all of a sudden. 

Paul nodded and made his way over to a free table by the window, which just happened to be a table for two. Whether that was by accident or design, Richard wasn’t sure , yet it really wasn’t his place to question the other man’s motives. After all, it could just have been a logical choice, as it didn’t make sense for one man to sit at a table for four. 

“You really should take your lunch with him, you know, Reesh,” Christoph said, with a leer at Richard. 

“I can’t,” Richard said, with reluctance.

“Why not?” Christoph asked. “I insist upon it.” 

“My lunch hour’s not ‘til one, and he’ll be long gone by then,” Richard pointed out. “And besides, how do I know that he’ll even want me sitting with him? He might think I‘m a creep or a stalker or something.” 

“Trust me, you idiot, he won’t,” Christoph replied, with a snort. 

“He definitely wants you alright,” Till chipped in, with a slight smirk at Richard. “And take lunch early for once.”

Richard nodded, too surprised to say anything much; after all, it wasn’t often that Till actually offered anyone an early lunch. He busied himself with whipping up a couple of sandwiches and coffees, before he loaded the food onto a tray. He placed a second portion of the German Chocolate cake alongside Paul's own, after deciding to treat himself to the sweet and sticky cake. He wound his way through the hungry customers that milled before the counter waiting to be served, before he arrived at Paul’s table; the other man looked up and smiled at Richard, as a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds outside and shone onto Paul’s face. He squinted and shielded his eyes, but he didn’t lose his smile; Richard took that as a good sign. 

“Mind if I take my lunch with you?” he asked, hopefully.

He couldn’t help but notice the pleased look upon Paul’s face at that, there and gone in but an instant but unmistakably there all the same. 

“Of course, take a seat,” Paul said, as he gestured over at the empty chair.

Once again, Richard wondered if the choice of table had been purposeful; then he began to worry about whether he was even allowed to fraternize with customers. He decided that he was just being stupid in his nervousness; after all, his co-workers were doing their best to practically push them together. Even Till seemed determined to engage in an impromptu bout of match-making, if his offer of an early lunch was anything to go by. 

He covered up for his slight pause, by serving Paul his food and coffee, before finally taking the offered seat with a sigh. He hadn‘t realized until then just how much his feet were beginning to hurt; it had been a long and far too busy shift and he still had a few hours to go. He took his first bite of his sandwich and watched as Paul began to eat, with obvious enjoyment on his face.

“This is so much better than the sandwich I had the other day,” Paul observed through a mouthful of pork, sauerkraut and bread.

“The Ploughman’s?” Richard asked, in surprise.

He wondered if perhaps he had gone a little overboard with the onions, after all. 

“No, the Bavarian, when I came in on Wednesday. Your friend made it for me,” Paul said. “Oli? I think.”

“Oh, yeah, Oli,” Richard said, and jealousy rose its ugly head at Paul‘s words. 

Even though he knew that such jealousy was irrational, he still couldn’t stop it gnawing at his insides; he felt as though by serving Paul his food, and therefore doing his job, Oli had encroached upon Richard’s territory. He glanced up and offered Paul a smile when he saw the hesitant way in which the other man was staring at him; it was as if Paul had latched onto the remnants of Richard’s thoughts yet didn’t like to press for more information. 

“If you didn’t like your food, then you’re welcome to complain, y‘know?” Richard offered, even though it felt like a disservice to Oli. 

“No, the food was nice, it’s just ... hard to explain, actually,” Paul said, with a self-conscious smile. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Ah,” Richard said, feeling a little confused by Paul’s sudden embarrassment. 

It almost felt as though he was the inadvertent cause of it, somehow. Paul merely grinned at him, but didn’t speak; instead, he bit off another mouthful of his sandwich. They ate in silence then, which, to Richard, surprisingly didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Instead it felt relaxed and tangibly familiar, as though they’d been friends for ages instead of mere passing acquaintances. Paul smiled at him, when he met his eyes and Richard smiled back. 

Conversation started then, in trickles at first, before words fell in full flow between them; topics shifted from the weather to sport to music to books. After half an hour, Paul checked his watch and cursed, loudly.

“Shit, I’m late for work,” he said, as he scrubbed the last remnants of chocolate cake from his fingers. “I’m sorry for keeping you, but I have to go. I have a lot of work to get through today.”

“That’s okay,” Richard said, with a smile. “I have to get back to work, myself, as well.” 

Paul nodded, before he stood and smiled awkwardly at Richard. 

“Well, I’ll see you around,” he said, but his tone made it more of a question than a statement. 

“You will,” Richard said, and it felt more like a promise than an answer. 

Paul smiled again, and it almost seemed to Richard as though the other man had almost leant in to kiss him goodbye; he held his breath, and almost wished that Paul would. He felt disappointed when the moment passed and Paul glanced away with an embarrassed little cough. 

“Yeah, see you,” Paul said, and he sounded as awkward as he looked.

“See you soon,” Richard nodded, before he watched Paul walk away.

He still was sitting at the table, looking out of the window when Paul passed it; the other man looked in at him, grinned and shot Richard a cheeky little wink. Richard winked and grinned back, before Paul walked on and was lost to the crowds. Richard sighed, before he got up from where he still sat, and returned to work once more. 

::::

Paul cursed himself as he walked away from the Cafe, just as much for the fact that he was late for work as for the fact that he’d almost slipped up and kissed Richard goodbye. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought that Richard had hesitated as well, as though the other man had expected the kiss too, had welcomed the prospect of it in fact. Paul tried to convince himself that he was just transferring his own wants and needs onto Richard, yet still the niggling doubt remained that that wasn’t the case.

Flake was busy at work on his latest project when Paul hurried in; there was a hint of resigned patience upon the other man’s face, even as Paul apologized profusely for his tardiness. 

“You were at that Cafe, again, weren’t you?” Flake merely said, after Paul had finished making his apologies. “Your fancy man chatting you up, or what?” 

“He’s not my ... “ Paul began, before he sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t know what to do, Flake.” 

He’d mentioned Richard enough times to his boss by now for Flake to have gotten a little weary of hearing about him. 

“Ask him out,” Flake replied, bluntly. “It sounds to me as though he likes you.” 

“What if he’s already got someone, though? What if he’s straight? What if he says no?” Paul asked, as he ran nervous, harried hands through his hair. 

“Well? So what? What’s the worst thing that could happen? Will the world collapse around you if he is any of those things? Will an asteroid come smashing down upon you if he says no? You might get an infectious disease and wither away into skin and bones or something,” Flake opined, obviously getting a little carried away with his own suppositions.

“Flake,” Paul said, sharply. “You’re not helping. Really.”

“No? Well, give me one good reason as to what’s preventing you from asking a simple question? What are you really so frightened of?” Flake asked. “If he says no for whatever reason, you’ll move on, like we all have to.” 

Paul grunted, but said nothing. Despite Flake's earlier gloomy and descriptive predictions, he knew that the other man had a point. 

“Think on it while you’re sanding down that fretboard,” Flake said, pointedly. “Which reminds me, you’re supposed to be working on that new guitar. Paul.” 

Paul sighed and knew that he had no other choice but to return to work. 

::::

Over the following weeks, Paul became a regular customer at the cafe; Richard found that he always looked forward to Paul‘s visits and the seemingly spontaneous conversations that sprang up whenever the other man was there. He also found that Paul was capable of making Richard laugh at the most ridiculous things and even the most mundane of subject matters felt effortless when discussed with Paul. 

Richard soon discovered that Paul was most definitely gay, but had no partner to call his own, which came as a huge relief to Richard; in turn, he revealed that he, too was gay and was single. He thought he saw a corresponding look of relief and renewed interest sparking in Paul’s eyes at that, but the expression was gone almost as soon as it came. 

It was after one of Paul’s visits, after a month of similar visits, that Richard realized that he was starting to fall hopelessly in love with the other man. It was a gradual thing at first, but definitely there, like a slow slide into a warm embrace that was almost tangible, yet still irrevocably out of reach and maddeningly so. 

“You should just ask him out already,” Christoph said one day, after two months had passed and Richard had spent yet another lunchtime with Paul in their habitual table by the window.

“Hmm,” Richard said, too distracted by thoughts of Paul to take much notice.

“In fact, I insist upon it. If you don’t, I might just consider firing you,” Till joined in. 

“You wouldn’t,” Richard said, finally taking notice of what was being said to him.

He glanced sharply at Till, yet the supervisor didn’t look as though he was joking.

“I would, if you don’t ask him out,” Till said. “Just try me.” 

Richard had no good reason not to ask Paul out, threat of unemployment or not, yet still his mind was occupied for the rest of the day with how best to pose the question. 

::::

Richard did not see Paul for another three days; nervousness clawed at his gut as though Paul had finally grown bored of him and left him behind. When Paul came in, looking worn and tired, Richard’s heart and hope leapt within him, soon replaced by concern when he saw the weariness that dogged Paul’s smile and pushed deep lines of worry in the other man’s forehead. 

Richard spent time with Paul at their usual table, yet he did not ask him out; instead, he listened to Paul’s concerns over the future of Lorenz’s Luthiers. According to Paul, it seemed as though the future looked bleak, business even bleaker and the prospect of closure all too imminent. 

“If business doesn’t pick up soon, then both Flake and I might be out of work,” Paul said, as he moodily picked at his German Chocolate cake. 

“Is there nothing you can do to drum up more business? Placing adverts in the newspaper, for instance? We can display a poster or something for you in here, y’know?” Richard offered.

“Would you?” Paul asked, as he glanced up at Richard with a hopeful expression his eyes. “Really?” 

“I’m sure I could convince Till to put one up,” Richard said, even as he felt the first frisson of doubt about it.

“You’re very kind, but you don't have to,” Paul said, yet he looked torn as though he really did want to accept Richard‘s offer of help. 

“I do,” Richard insisted. “If it means helping to keep you in work, then I’ll try to do at least something. Mention it to Flake and try and get a poster arranged, if he’s agreeable.” 

“Thank you. I‘ll do that,” Paul said, quietly, and it seemed as though he didn’t know what else to say. 

Richard nodded, but didn’t know what else he could say, either. They ate in silence, yet, once again, their lack of conversation didn’t feel in the slightest bit uncomfortable to Richard. Paul left soon afterwards, with a grateful nod and goodbye; he even rested one hand upon Richard’s shoulder before he walked away. Richard could feel the warmth of the other man’s palm resting against his skin long after he’d left and he found it oddly comforting. 

:::

Paul walked into the Cafe the following day and he looked a little brighter, although still not quite himself; he’d spoken to Flake the day before and the other man had agreed to Richard’s plan. 

“I should have a poster with you by the end of the week, if it’s still alright to put it up,” Paul said, with something like his usual smile. 

“Yeah, it is; Till was as agreeable as he’s ever going to get,” Richard said, with a brief, surprised raise of his eyebrows at Paul.

Paul, at least, laughed at that, which made Richard grin in turn. They chatted for a while, and Richard was glad to note that some of the moroseness had left Paul’s shoulders by the time that he was ready to order. That day, however, he did not have the time to eat his food in the Cafe; instead, he had to cut and run, paper bag filled with his freshly made lunch clutched tightly within hungry fingers.

Once again, Richard failed in his task to ask Paul out. Nervousness had gotten the better of him, yet he promised himself, and Till when he asked, that he would do better the next time that he saw him. 

Paul was not seen for another few days and when he walked into the Cafe again, his worried look had been replaced by something akin to his usual care-free grin again; although money worries still beset Lorenz‘s Luthiers, Paul was a little more confident that their luck would change. Richard nodded, uncertain as to what to say to the other man; he was saved from halting attempts at comforting words by Paul producing the poster he wanted displayed upon Silk Terrace‘s wall. 

Once again, Paul did not have the time to eat in-store, which disappointed Richard, but surprisingly, that made the task of asking him out all the easier. He’d already scribbled a partial speech in haste upon a napkin an hour earlier, in an attempt to find the right words to say to the other man. Richard did not want to sound like a silly school-boy asking his first crush out, yet he’d found it surprisingly hard to find the right words; in the end, he’d opted to tell Paul the honest truth. 

Whilst he was disappointed that he wouldn’t have his answer straight away, he decided to use his scribbled notes as an actual message; he hastily finished the note off before he slipped the napkin in with Paul‘s toasted Brie and apple ciabatta. He handed the bag over to the other man with sweating, nervous palms and a shaky attempt at a smile. 

He watched Paul walk away, but the other man seemed in no hurry to look inside the bag until he’d walked out of the store; again, Paul looked over his shoulder before he left and gave Richard his usual smile, filled with a secret dark promise that Richard hoped was reserved only for him. 

Richard blew out a shaky breath and scrubbed his hands upon the seat of his pants, feeling the prickles of nervousness scrub at his palms. He blew out a shaky breath again, thinking that the worst outcome would be that Paul would not want to go out with him. If that proved to be the case, then the other man would quite likely never come back into the Cafe again, or at the very worst, start talking to Oli, or to Christoph, instead. 

“So? Did you finally ask him?” Christoph asked, looking for all the world like an expectant father.

“Yeah,” Richard said, with a sick and nervous grin at Christoph.

“And?” Christoph asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Richard said, and his smile faded.

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know yet?” Christoph asked, expression caught halfway between exasperation and amusement. “Did he say that he’d tell you later or something?”

“No,” Richard said. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who does that?” 

“You do, apparently,” Christoph snorted. “So what happened, then?”

“I gave him my telephone number and a note,” Richard mumbled. 

“Telephone number? Well, that’s a start,” Christoph said. 

“He probably won‘t call, anyway,” Richard said, gruffly, as he stared towards the door that Paul had so recently walked out of. 

“He will, you’ll see,” Christoph said. “And, Reesh, by the way, I hate to tell you this, but you have a customer to serve.” 

Richard nodded to prove that he’d heard before he went back to work. Despite the rest of his shift proving to be quite busy, his mind still rested with Paul, consumed with worry that the other man might not bother calling him up at all. 

:::

Paul wandered down the street, progress hampered by the crowds that refused to get out of his way; as such he didn’t have time to eat his sandwich until he was almost at the door of the work-shop. He sat outside and reached into the bag blindly; his fingertips brushed blindly at the edge of a napkin. Without thinking, he pulled it out, ready for use after eating. He folded it out and an unexpected flash of green caught his eye; ordinarily, the napkins from the Cafe were a stark white, unmarked by any discerning logo. He frowned and looked down at the napkin, eyes drifting briefly over a hastily scribbled note written upon it in green ink; he saw that there also was a telephone number on it.

His frown deepened; he wondered if perhaps there had been some kind of mistake at the Cafe, and then he saw his name scribbled on the top of it. A sudden nervous feeling of near-dread settled through him, as he began to read. 

“Paul - I’m not gunna lie… you’re… you’re actually kinda cute. I have Sunday off, so… would you mind having lunch with me at the sandwich shop? I’ll pay. Call me if you do decide! - Richard” 

Paul had to read the message again, just to make sure that he’d read it correctly and by the time that his gaze slid over the scribbled words a third time, he had started to grin. It took a while longer for the truth to sink in; Richard had finally asked him out, which was something that Paul had long hoped for, yet little expected. He pulled his ciabatta from the depths of his crinkling paper bag and began to eat, whilst he read the note for a fourth time. 

:::

The remainder of Richard’s shift passed by in a blur of faces and orders and he barely paid attention to anything he was doing; his hands seemed to work of their own accord, spreading butter and slapping fillings onto various assortments of breads. He brewed the coffees and teas and was finally able to properly breathe again when his shift finally ended. That relief was soon replaced by a heightened sense of nervousness, when he realized that he couldn’t postpone returning home; he had to know either way if Paul would actually call.

He hung his coat up in the hallway, after he’d firmly closed his apartment door behind him; it felt as though he were sealing himself in and shutting the world out in one firm movement. He’d barely made his way to the kitchen, after first paying a visit to the bathroom, when the phone started to ring.

A surge of fear induced alarm speared through him at the sound, which he knew was ultimately ridiculous. If that proved to be Paul on the other end, then the news could only be good, after all; he’d hardly ring him up if he was going to reject him. No one could be that cruel. 

He barely made it the phone in one piece, hands shaking slightly, palms covered with a fine sheen of nervous sweat, before he plucked the phone from its cradle and connected.

“Hallo, this is Richard Kruspe,” he said.

“Hi, Richard? It’s Paul,” came Paul’s familiar deep voice over the phone. “Paul Landers.”

Richard had to smile at the other man’s need to clarify exactly who he was, as though Richard wouldn’t recognise his voice. 

“Hi, Paul,” Richard said, as nonchalantly as he could, yet still he winced at the nervous little tremour that he heard in his tone, all the same.

Paul didn’t seem to notice, or if he had, he wasn’t commenting upon it. 

“I found your note at lunchtime,” he said, and Richard could tell that the other man was smiling. “And yes, I’d love to take you up on your offer, if you’re still interested.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m interested,” Richard said, unable to stop the relieved grin from spreading across his face. “Definitely.”

“Good,” Paul said, and there was that deep little chuckle that Richard was all too familiar with. “Why do you sound so surprised?” 

“I didn’t think you’d accept,” Richard confessed. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Paul asked, and his tone sounded surprised. 

“You probably get loads of offers, so why should I stand out?” Richard said, knowing that he was quite possibly gabbling and unable to stop it all the same. 

“In actual fact, I don’t get many offers,” Paul said, before his confessing tone turned worried. “Which is not why I accepted your offer, before you start thinking awful things. I accepted because I really do want to have lunch with you. For the record, I think you're cute too.” 

Richard’s sigh of relief was explosive and his laughter rolled out across the line, soon to be joined by Paul’s own laughter. 

“That’s ... that’s good, Paul,” Richard said. “I’m glad.” 

“What? That I don’t get asked out very often?” Paul said, and there was a clear teasing note in his voice, at that. 

“You knew what I meant,” Richard said, with a snort that was caught halfway between genuine amusement and disgust.

Paul’s laughter rang over the phone line and Richard couldn’t help but smile, even though he knew that the other man could not see him. 

“So, I’ll see you Sunday, then?” Richard asked, smile turning his tone warm. “At our usual time?”

“Of course. It’s a date,” Paul agreed and it sounded as though he was smiling himself.

“Absolutely,” Richard said. 

There seemed little else that either man could say; idle chatter filled a few more minutes before both men made their reluctant goodbyes and disconnected. 

::::

Paul waited outside the Silk Terrace Cafe with more than a frisson of nervousness eating away at his gut; crowds filled the streets, occasionally jostling against Paul where he stood. Despite the occasional annoyance, he soaked up the warmth of the day, revelling in the sunshine that burst across his skin in comforting waves. It was all too rare to get such a gorgeous day and he knew that it must be some kind of a good omen. 

He scanned the crowds for perhaps the fifth time in as many as minutes, wondering where Richard was, if perhaps the other man had changed his mind already and wasn‘t going to turn up. He felt a premature stab of disappointment at that, which cut through his enjoyment of the day; worry began to seep in and he almost stood to leave, when he saw Richard’s familiar dark haired head bobbing swiftly through the crowds. 

Richard, when he reached Paul’s side, looked flustered and out of breath, as though the other man had been purposefully hurrying to reach Paul’s side. Paul was grinning, relief pouring through him in warm dregs at the thought that he hadn’t been stood up after all. Richard grinned back at him even as he tried to catch his breath.

“What’s so funny?” Richard asked, by way of greeting.

“Nothing much,” Paul said. “I just thought that perhaps you weren’t going to show up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Richard said, in alarm. “No, I was just held up at the train station; you know how busy it gets.”

“Ah, yeah, of course,” Paul said, as he nodded out his agreement with a grin. “Well, you’re here now. So, um, shall we go in?” 

“Yeah, I think we should,” Richard replied, with a grin of his own.

Paul nodded, before he led the way inside with Richard close behind him; Richard’s hand was a warm and pleasurable weight in the middle of Paul’s back. He smiled at the contact, surprised at how natural and easy it felt; still distracted, he had to hastily stop to let someone pass and Richard accidentally jostled against him. Richard steadied himself by putting both hands upon Paul’s hips, body a warm and sudden line pressing against him. Paul closed his eyes at the contact, and instinctively leant back against Richard’s body despite the other man’s apology; he felt, as well as heard, Richard’s amused laughter over his inadvertent response. 

When Paul finally walked away, Richard kept one arm looped about Paul’s waist, as though by dint of leaning back into him, Paul had given his permission for Richard to touch him and he supposed that he had. Richard's hand felt nice against him, the partial hug like a claiming gesture that Paul thought that he could easily get used to.

Richard, he noticed, seemed reluctant to relinquish the contact once they reached their usual table, and Paul in turn mourned the loss of the other man’s hand against him. They sat opposite each other, but didn’t get the chance to speak; Oli approached to serve them, an amused smile decorating his bearded face. Almost as soon as he arrived, Oli winked conspiratorially at Richard and offered Paul one of his friendly grins. Paul couldn’t help but grin back, grin softening slightly when Richard’s fingers brushed up against his own where they lay against the table-top, as though playing with the idea of possibly holding his hand. 

Paul didn’t move away; instead, he slid his hand a little further towards Richard’s, in silent, open invitation. Richard took both the invitation and Paul’s hand, fingers a warm and curling pressure against Paul’s own. Richard’s hold was gentle, his thumb rubbing soothing warmth against Paul's knuckles; the pressure felt nice, welcome, comforting even and made Paul smile a little. 

Oli took their order and disappeared into the crowds; silence reigned between Paul and Richard at first. Paul glanced at Richard and found that the other man was staring at him, in such a way as though Richard was committing every aspect of his face to memory, slight smile curving at the corners of his lips. Paul smiled back at him and yet still said nothing. 

In time, conversation began, slowly at first before picking up to something a little more natural and easy. They talked long after their sandwiches and coffee had been consumed, until finally Richard announced, with some dismay, that the cafe would be shutting its doors soon; it had come time for them to finally part ways for the day. Paul felt disappointment at that, yet their walk through the streets of Berlin was unhurried; again, Richard slipped his arm around Paul’s waist and Paul found it a natural thing to settle in close against Richard’s body, to feel his warmth leach through his clothing despite the warmth of the afternoon that remained. 

“I had a lovely time,” Richard commented, voice hushed as though he was frightened of shattering the relaxed quietude that reigned between them. 

“Hmm, me too,” Paul agreed, as he directed a smile up at the taller man.

“I wouldn't mind doing it again, y‘know,” Richard said, hopefully, as he glanced quickly at Paul as though to gauge his reaction.

“I‘d like that, too,” Paul said, genuinely pleased that Richard seemed just as keen to repeat the experience as he did .

“Super. Is Friday night good for you?” Richard asked. “I’ll take you to a proper restaurant, this time. I‘m paying and no arguments.”

“Well, I didn‘t expect you to pay, but I would love that,” Paul agreed, with a smile up at the other man. 

“I insist. Okay, d’you know The Bird on Folkplatz?” Richard asked. “Or we could always go to the Schnitzelei on Röntgenstraße.” 

“The Bird will be more than fine,” Paul said, hurriedly, not wanting Richard to spend out too much on his behalf.

“That’s fine,” Richard replied, amiably enough. 

Paul smiled. Richard returned the smile, before silence fell again between them; they continued walking without talking, and finally reached the Tiergarten. They walked beneath the trees, before finally coming to a halt before highly colourful flowerbeds; the roses were in full bloom, sending their rich fragrance wafting through the air around them. 

Paul could feel Richard staring at him rather than at the flowers; he glanced at the other man and returned Richard’s smile. There was a brief, weighted pause, before Richard finally leant in, mouth a mere hair’s breadth away from Paul’s own; it seemed as though he was waiting for Paul to accept the promised kiss or not. Paul was surprised, yet somewhat grateful that Richard was giving him the choice, as though the other man didn‘t want to pressurize him into exchanging even a kiss; really, he knew that he wouldn’t, couldn’t refuse it, now that the offer had been made. 

He closed the distance that remained between them, hand rising to rest gently on the back of Richard's neck. Richard slipped his arms a little closer about Paul’s waist and drew him against his body; Paul lost himself to the kiss, to Richard's mouth, lips moving in hesitant exploratory motions at first, before they found a natural rhythm; mutual need and attraction then took over. 

Paul leant in to claim another kiss when Richard reluctantly eased away; he could feel Richard smiling against him as the other man responded easily, eagerly. Paul returned the smile, even as the kiss continued, small moans of pleasure leaking past open lips when they momentarily parted.

Finally, the kiss ended, yet the contentment remained; they made their way slowly from the Tiergarten, fingers curled together, as the sun rode slowly down to the horizon. 

::::

Friday’s date at the restaurant passed quickly, with both men enjoying the food as well as each other‘s company. The evening ended with more kisses stolen beneath the light of the moon shining down upon Berlin, each kiss lengthening the time remaining between them before they had to make their goodbyes for the night. 

Paul remained a near permanent fixture over the next few weeks at the Silk Terrace Cafe, smiling face showing almost every lunchtime to buy his lunch from Richard. 

Business at Lorenz’s Luthiers began to pick up again, slowly at first and then a little more steadily; whilst Paul sometimes still worried about his job, even he had to admit that his worries were growing fewer with every new commission that rolled in through their doors. The posters and signs displayed throughout various shops and businesses throughout Alexanderplatz and Kudamm helped considerably; Richard knew that at least a few of the commissions came from Silk Terrace Cafe customers showing interest in the poster displayed upon the Cafe’s wall. 

Every time that he saw the brightly coloured poster himself, it further strengthened the seed of an idea that had been planted several weeks earlier, after Paul had first mentioned his line of work. Finally, after a couple of weeks of further deliberation and planning, Richard decided to ask Paul for a very special favour, indeed. 

:::

“Paul? Can I ask you something?” Richard asked, as he settled himself down across from Paul at their usual table at the window. 

“Hmm,” Paul nodded, from around a mouthful of bread and smoked sausage. 

“D’you think I could commission a guitar from you? I’m willing to pay the full price, of course; the money’s not an issue,” Richard said, hurriedly. 

“Hmmm,” Paul said, again, before hurriedly swallowing his mouthful. “I’d love to; I’m sure I can work out a special deal with Flake for you, though. Special commissions are not cheap, you know.” 

“I realize that, but I’d feel too awkward expecting you to make special dispensation for me,” Richard said. “Just because we’re dating, doesn’t mean to say I expect to cheat you out of money.” 

Paul smiled at that, and reached across the table to rest one hand upon Richard’s; he squeezed the other man’s fingers affectionately, but he didn’t immediately relinquish his hold upon Richard. The other man smiled and rotated his hand, so that he could wrap his fingers around Paul’s. 

“I know you’re not trying to take the piss out of me, Reesh, but like I said, I’ll have a word with Flake. Whatever he says about it will be akin to the law, so it’ll be his words, not mine,” Paul said, with a smile. “Why? What have you got in mind?”

“It’s a bit difficult to try and explain; I’ve been working on some sketches, but obviously I don’t have them with me, today. I wanted to make sure that it was okay with you, first,” Richard explained, with a wry little grin. 

“Well, it is my job, liebchen,” Paul said, with a laugh. “I’m very rarely of a mind to turn down paid work when and where I can get it.” 

“You do realize I could make quite the lewd comment about your last statement, y’know,” Richard said, with a laugh of his own. 

Paul silently gave him the middle finger, which made Richard laugh all the harder. Paul’s grin, when it appeared, was as sunny as it ever was. 

“I’d like to see your sketches first, just to get an idea of how much work will be involved,” he said, grin turning a little serious. “I will then have to show them to Flake, before we can work out a price for you, as I said.” 

“Okay, that sounds reasonable enough,” Richard said, agreeably. “Are you free to pop round my place any time this week?” 

 

“Is tomorrow convenient for you?” Paul asked, uncertainly,. worried that it might prove to be a little too soon for the other man. 

He didn’t want to look too eager on his first visit to Richard‘s apartment, even though he had the excuse that work was involved. 

“Yes. That’ll be fine,” Richard said, with a nod and a grin that immediately put Paul at ease. “Say at about six? I can cook, as well.” 

“Can you, really? Good for you,” Paul said, unable to resist the temptation of teasing the other man. 

“Shut up, Landers. You knew what I meant,” Richard said, even as a laugh escaped seemingly unbidden from behind a mock-pout. 

“I did, and that sounds lovely. Thank you,” Paul said, gratefully, just as Till yelled at Richard to return to work again. 

“I’ve gotta go, Paulchen; I’m sorry,” he said, as he slowly got to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay,” Paul said, before Richard pressed a hard, almost desperate kiss against his waiting mouth. 

He watched Richard walk back behind the counter again; the other man turned back to throw him a smile and a wink over one shoulder, before he began to serve the back-log of hungry customers milling before the counter. 

::::

Paul stood outside Richard’s apartment door, feeling more nervous than he had in years. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the evening, yet he knew that it marked a level of trust in Richard, to invite him into his personal space as easily as he had done. In his hand, he held a bottle of white wine as a gift for the other man. 

He knocked on the door, and heard Richard’s voice filtering through the wooden barrier faintly in response. He waited, nervousness settling still further in a welter of butterflies in his stomach; he felt like a teenager again, going on his first date and he wasn‘t quite sure he liked the feeling. 

He heard the first patter and shuffle of the other man’s feet on the other side, before the door swung open; Richard looked almost as nervous as Paul felt. 

“Hi,” Richard said, as he held the door open wide enough for Paul to enter, hand held out in a gesture of welcome.

“Hi,” Paul said, with a nod of thanks tilted in Richard’s direction. “You look nice.” 

Richard had opted to wear a black shirt with matching trousers, dark red tie completing the outfit. It seemed as though Richard had wanted to make an effort for Paul, despite the fact that he was in the confines of his own home. Paul was glad that he wasn't over-dressed, something that he had, in fact, been worried about. Even though he’d opted to not wear a tie, his shirt was one of the best he had, and the trousers had been freshly ironed that afternoon.

“So do you,” Richard returned, as his arms slid around Paul in a hug, one hand shoring up against Paul’s butt.

Paul smiled and nuzzled against Richard’s nose in an affectionate little Eskimo kiss, which at least made Richard laugh and pat his butt playfully. Paul broke away with a grin before he handed Richard the wine.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” Richard said, in surprise.

“No, but I wanted to,” Paul said. “As a thank you for the dinner and everything.” 

Richard made a noise of approval at that, before he gestured for Paul to follow him through to the kitchen. Paul smiled when he walked through the living room; the place was nicely decorated, neutral colours making the place seem airy and larger than it actually was. The settee was leather and looked comfortably soft to sit upon, whilst shelves lined the entirety of one wall, almost overflowing with books and DVDs. 

“Lovely place you have,” he said, genuine appreciation in his voice. 

“Thanks,” Richard said, as they finally made their way into the kitchen. “Take a seat. Dinner‘s almost ready.”

The kitchen was as tastefully decorated as the living room, with a large wooden, almost rustic table in the middle of it. Richard had been cooking noodles, with a side dish of vegetables in gravy; although it was simple fare, Paul thought that it smelt delicious. They chatted whilst Richard began to serve the food, soon taking his place on the other side of the table from Paul, steaming plates of food before them. Richard opened the wine that Paul had brought, and poured out a couple of glasses of it for them both; Paul accepted his gratefully, and took a sip before he set the glass down upon the table.

The food tasted as good as it smelt, proving that Richard’s talents with food extended far beyond making mere sandwiches. Richard couldn’t help but smile at the slight noises of pleasure that Paul inadvertently made over his meal; Paul caught the smile and smirked a little back at him.

“The food’s really good,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed.

“So I can hear,” Richard said, with a pleased grin. “And thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

Paul nodded, and took another mouthful, eyes closing in appreciation at the buttery taste of the noodles that filled his mouth. They continued to talk while they ate, and Richard produced slices of cheesecake when they’d finished. Although Richard hadn’t actually made the dessert himself, Paul still thought the cheesecake delicious, the creaminess of the soft filling off-setting the tartness of the cherries layered above.

He helped Richard to wash the dirty plates once they’d finished, before Richard led him through to the office, hand curled easily around Paul’s own. Paul couldn’t help but feel amusement over the way that Richard seemed to find any excuse to jostle against him gently, as though wanting to prolong contact with him. Paul felt his breath catching at every affectionate nudge and half-cuddle. He realized then that this was the first time that they’d genuinely been alone with one another; he felt another stab of nervousness flitter through him, yet that time, it was a good kind of nervousness. His mind suddenly raced with images of lying with Richard on his bed, of skin gliding against naked skin, of chaste kisses leading to open caresses and more. 

“Paul?” Richard asked, with an amused expression on his face.

“What?” Paul asked, suddenly pulled from his own lewd imagination by Richard’s loud voice in his ear.

“You weren’t listening,” Richard said, but Paul was glad to note that he didn’t sound offended. 

Instead, the other man still looked amused, as though he was privy to at least some of the things that Paul had been fantasizing about.

“I am sorry,” Paul said, as he offered the other man a smile. “I think that wine went to my head a little.” 

Richard huffed and grinned, before he pointed down to the sketches he’d laid upon his desk whilst Paul had been overtaken by his flights of fancy. 

“These are the sketches I was telling you about,” he said.

On the pages were numerous designs for a couple of guitars; one was silver, with an slightly darker silver cross embossed upon the body-work, whilst the other was beige, with scorched edges and various red welts decorating the burnt surface. Richard took Paul through the designs, explaining the type of pick-ups he had in mind, what type of wood he wanted for the body and the neck, and the gauge of strings he preferred. Paul nodded, and made further notes on a separate piece of paper, whilst Richard talked. Once the discussions were over, he nodded again.

“Leave all of this with me; I’ll take your designs to Flake tomorrow, okay? It shouldn‘t take too long to drum up the price for you; maybe a day or two afterwards” he said, seriously. 

“That’s fine,” Richard replied, as he stared at Paul, a half-smile upon his face.

Paul began to smile himself, before he asked - “What?” 

“You know, this is the most serious I’ve ever seen you,” Richard said, more than a little affectionately. 

“I’m sorry,” Paul offered, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for.

“No, I like it. You really do love your work, don’t you?” Richard asked, as he slid his arms around Paul’s waist, to draw him close.

“Hmm,“ Paul replied, too distracted by the closeness of Richard’s body to properly concentrate on anything else. 

Richard smiled and didn’t seem to mind Paul’s sudden lack of words; instead, he closed the distance between them, mouth closing over Paul’s own. Paul lost himself to the kiss, to the warmth of Richard's body pressed against his. He relaxed into Richard more fully than he’d allowed himself before, aided by the absolute privacy of Richard’s office. Richard seemed to sense the change in Paul’s body, for he deepened the kiss, one hand trailing down Paul's back to cup his ass gently. Paul leant a little closer, sudden arousal starting to pool in his abdomen. Richard eased away to stare at Paul, before he spoke.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you know, Paul,” he said.

Paul smiled at him, touched by the fact that Richard was obviously giving him the chance to put off sex for a while.

“I know, Reesh. It’s okay. I want this. I want you,” he said, softly. “I’m ready.”

Richard's gaze searched his face and whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded and relaxed against Paul again; they returned to kissing, mouths locking and working against one another gently, silence broken only by appreciative noises interspersed with the odd murmur of each other’s names. 

Richard was the first to break away, to lead Paul through to the bedroom; Paul didn’t even take in the surroundings that time, concentration narrowed down to the removal of clothes, and Richard himself, hands sliding over slowly bared skin and exploring the new sensations of Richard’s body. Paul found that he liked what he saw, hands exploring every inch of Richard’s nakedness, fingers caressing every dip and curve and gentle swell; Richard, in turn, was taking his time in exploring Paul’s body, hands gliding almost reverently across every inch of Paul‘s skin that he could reach. Paul was fully hard by the time that Richard drew away to retrieve the lube from the bathroom cabinet.

There was a moment of uncertainty as they settled upon the bed; it almost was as though they weren’t quite sure how their bodies were supposed to fit together, all awkward angles and tangled limbs upon dark sheets; Paul finally sorted out the problem by slotting himself comfortably beneath Richard. Richard stared down at Paul, pressed a kiss against the tattoo that graced the other man’s upper arm, before he began to squirt lube upon his fingers.

Paul closed his eyes, moans leaking past parted lips as Richard started to prepare him, every movement slow and well thought out, as though Richard was mindful of hurting him. Paul mourned the loss of Richard’s hand when it slid away; he opened his eyes and watched as Richard slicked lube over his erection and shifted into a more comfortable position, as the other man settled on top of him. 

Richard guided himself inside Paul, taking every movement slowly, a deep moan leaking past his lips as he began to inch inside the other man. Paul also groaned, body arching pleasurably up into Richard's; that one gesture spoke louder than words that Paul was okay. He waited whilst Paul adjusted to him, before he began to thrust, slowly at first, hands sliding and exploring over Paul's body; Paul’s hand rested against Richard’s back, caressing every inch of him that he could reach, as their bodies slowly moved together. Every movement seemed endless and forever, every moan growing louder, more desperate, interspersed with harsh utterances of each other's name. Paul arched up into Richard's body, Richard’s name heavy upon his tongue as he climaxed. 

Richard came a few moments later, utterly lost to the other man as he released, hands clutching desperately at Paul’s body as though fearful that the other man would fracture and leave as soon as it was over. He felt stripped down to nothing more than his bare bones, opened out and vulnerable; Paul looked just as lost and as vulnerable as he felt when his gaze locked with the other man’s. 

Paul smiled at him and the moment passed, as he settled in close, skin sweaty and sticky against Richard’s own. Neither spoke; instead, they rested in each other’s arms for a while. Once they'd shared a shower, Paul looked as though he was going to get dressed; Richard caught his hand and wouldn’t let it go. Paul looked down upon him, and stilled at the seriousness in the other man’s eyes.

“Stay,” Richard said. “For tonight.”

“Yes,” Paul said, immediately, with a smile.

Richard smiled back, yet neither man felt the need to speak further; their actions spoke louder over the night to come, as they made love again, before falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

 

:::

The morning dawned and spread warm fingers of light through the crack in the bedroom curtains; Paul stirred, eyes cracking open sleepily. At first he couldn't remember where he was, sleepiness momentarily disorientating him. He blinked and felt movement beside him, an arm sliding over his waist reminding him of where he was and who he was with. A surge of contentment suddenly filtered through him and he settled further down in bed; Richard seemed still more asleep than awake, head shoring up against Paul’s shoulder, breath warm as it blasted against his naked skin.

Paul continued to lay there, as awareness slowly seeped further back into his body, until the alarm went off and Richard cursed himself fully awake. He continued resting against Paul for a few moments longer; unlike Paul before him, Richard seemed to remember the night before almost immediately. Paul huffed out a sleepy laugh at that, before he lifted one hand and tickled Richard’s ear.

“Good morning, Reesh,” he said, as Richard shifted to look up at him with still sleepy eyes. 

“Morning,” Richard mumbled, before any further greeting was cut off by a lengthy yawn. 

He ended the yawn by dotting a kiss against Paul’s mouth; Paul responded and smiled into the kiss. They shared the shower again, but they did little more than kiss and caress each other beneath the flowing waters. Once they were clean and dressed, they ate a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, before they set off for work upon the train.

:::: 

The days that followed soon coalesced into weeks; Paul and Richard’s relationship grew ever more serious. Paul finished Richard’s guitars in time for Christmas; even though they were not among his intended gifts for the other man, he still gift wrapped them for him. Richard was delighted with the way that they’d turned out, once he‘d excitedly opened the packages. 

Christmas came and went and Paul ended up moving into Richard’s apartment after the New Year had dawned; Richard had decided to make the commitment to him and Paul had been only too happy to accept. He found it hard to believe that only a year previously, they hadn’t known each other at all, and then there they were, a full twelve months later, sharing an apartment together. It seemed as though just through deciding to change his lunch habits one day after becoming bored with making his own sandwiches, had changed his life for the better.


End file.
